Lord of Chaos
by Tobelius
Summary: Lutiana is tired of losing to the High Elves, but will her new plan help her to suceed or do even more damage than the High Elves could?
1. Chapter 1

Lutiana's voice echoed around the room as she shrieked with anger, spittle flying from her mouth. The general in front of her quivered in fear, his helmet clasped in his hand, his brow dirty and drenched in sweat. Lightning blue sparks crackled and erupted from the end of Lutiana's ornate golden staff.

"How could you fail?" She screamed, her usually expressionless face contorted in rage. "I gave you legions of soldiers to aid you!" She continued, the general flinching with every word, his eyes fixed to the floor. "Every one of your needs was met!" her long dark hair shimmered as she shook her head in fury. "You assured me you could do it!" She screeched as she grabbed a vase of purple flowers and threw them across the room narrowly missing the whimpering general's head. "Ulthuan should have been a push over!" Her hands were balled into tight fists; her long, perfectly manicured nails leaving little rings in her palms.

The terrified elf kneeling before looked up and tried to explain himself, "We weren't expecting them," Lutiana gave an angry snort, "Shadow Warriors. They ambushed us. Next time, I'll destroy them, I swear." He babbled. "Next time…" the general stared at Lutiana's feet too afraid to look into her hate filled eyes.

"Well," She considered, "You have been a good general, and you've definitely always given 110." At this the general straightened up, his back no longer weighed down with worry. "In fact you truly were the best choice for this invasion. But then again, the other generals might think I'd gone soft and we can't have that…"

The elf gasped in fear, he jumped to his feet and began to sprint for the door, but Lutiana had already raised her staff. A jet of black energy shot from the orb at the end and the fleeing general was engulfed in purple flames. His agonizing screams ripped through the air as the heat ate into his skin. Lutiana watched with a bemused expression as he writhed and squirmed unable to move. The flames tore away at him as he experienced the pain only possible from the dark arts. He jabbered and begged for redemption, for a second chance, for death. Anything to end this most hideous of pain.

Several minutes later the flames extinguished, a singed sword lay smouldering upon the ash. Lutiana gestured to a slave who hurried forwards and began to sweep the ash into a pan; another produced a new vase of flowers and placed them upon the window ledge. Lutiana seated herself once more on her marble throne and beckoned to a large ogre captive, ordering him to resume his duties as palm fanner.

A cough from behind the throne brought Lutiana's attention back to the winged chair by the fire.  
Kilic rose and stepped forwards to the side of the throne his double bladed sword swinging in his right hand, his golden armour gleaming, his helmet covering all but the dark slits of his eyes.

"My sweet lady," he simpered, "I told you he wasn't strong enough." Lutiana flashed him a blistering look but he didn't flinch. Kilic was Lutiana's golden boy, she would never harm him.

"So what's your next plan? Do we give up on Ulthuan?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Lutiana threw back her head and cackled, conjuring a purple orb in her right hand.

"Dear Kilic, this is only a minor set back for us. Ulthuan will fall, Glarmis and Tirith will die and I will become queen over all the Old World," she said with a smile, rising to her feet and sending the ogre off with a flick of her hand.

"We just need a little bit of help," she concluded, releasing the purple orb and watching it zoom off out of the castle.

"Help?" Questioned Kilic, "it's not like you to have allies."

"Every good general knows to change her strategies to fit the situation. Besides they will only be my allies so long as they are useful."  
At this Kilic let out a callous chuckle, "you are so wonderfully devious my dear Lady." Lutiana smiled maliciously, releasing another four purple orbs to disperse in various directions.  
"Assemble your Black Guard. Tell them to prepare for war."

**Hope you enjoyed!  
PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!!!**


	2. Chapter 2

Tirith clung tightly to the feathers of his griffon, Kestrel, as he soared across his hometown of Ulthuan. The wind rushing through his air, he laughed as he remembered the pitiful Dark Elf army that had attacked not a day before. Tirith had sprung the ambush and his shadow warriors had performed excellently, shooting out the Cold One Knights and then slicing through the unprepared Corsairs. Meanwhile Tirith had fought his way through swathes of spearmen to reach the fleeing General. Unfortunately he had been unable to stop him but Tirith was consoled with the fact that the Dark Elves penalty would probably be worse than anything he could cause.  
He tugged on the griffon's side and they turned away in a spiral, dropping down fast in a twirl, the air whipping past him filling him with adrenaline. He loved riding Kestrel; the sense of freedom and excitement was one he found little of elsewhere, except maybe in battle.

Swooping low over the houses, he caught glimpses of the city, mothers hurrying children to school, soldiers training in the fields, Mages performing daily chores. Ulthuan was a bustling, joyous, marvellous city that Tirith loved to watch. And watching was all he was allowed to do, being the prince of the Ulthuan and son of the Great King Glarmis meant he was not allowed to visit the rest of the town. He was forced to spend all day at home learning how to be a good king, discussing city politics; the rising price of fish, the growing hostility towards the dwarves and the worryingly low supply of barley.

Tirith sighed as the bell chimed 8'o clock and he was forced to turn back to the castle. On his way back he noticed a large amount of movement in the town, Sword masters hurried across the town in full armour, and Silver Helms mounted and cantered off across the fields. Even the Civilian Guard seemed to have assembled in a ramshackle formation in front of their commanding officers.  
Dismounting quickly he charged up the stairs and burst into the throne room not even bothering to knock. There he found his father seated in the giant white throne of the King, beside him his royal advisor, Forsyth, stood trembling.

Forsyth was a wizened old man with papery skin and faded blue protruding veins. He had served the High Elf kings for years and had always done a good job, although recently he had become somewhat absent-minded as though finally his age was catching up on him.  
Glarmis, rose to his feet, looking worried. At six foot 5 he towered over his son, Tirith's head just reaching the gilded wedding necklace that Glarmis had worn since his marriage to Mirina, Tirith's mother.

Glarmis nodded to acknowledge Tirith's presence and then without any more greeting he gestured to Forsyth, who stepped forwards and began to explain.

"In the last hour," he rasped, "we have received a call for aid from the Sisters of Twilight."

"The Sisters?" Tirith asked, confused, "The wood elves have never ask for our help before."

"They have been overwhelmed by the Orcs, it seems they've sent their entire force out to attack them."

"Then just send them some troops, we've defeated the Orcs before."

"That's what we planned to do" Forsyth sighed, "but moments after we received the call from the Sisters another message was sent to us, from Chotec, the High Slann Mage Priest, it appears they have come under attention from Necropolith, the Lich King."  
"But how can this…" Tirith began but Forsyth cut over him.

"Then Fritz called, told us his little hamlet was being attacked by "dirty grit bigguns" I can only assume he meant the ogres. And finally just as we were sending out the last of our troops we got another call from Merlin. The empire is being ravaged by the Vampire Counts."

There was silence as he finished. Tirith couldn't believe it, what were the chances of them all attacking together out of chance? Impossible. But still these were not friendly races; they were not allies, Ogres and Vampires together made no sense. What was happening?

"So have you dispatched troops?" Tirith asked.

"As many as we could," Glarmis answered, "but we have hardly any left to defend Ulthuan."  
"Defend Ulthuan? What are you talking about?"

"You think this is a coincidence? All our allies are being attacked, we are next and we will have a hard time fighting them off."

Tirith began to argue back but the knocking of a messenger at the door halted him. Forsyth collected the message, opened it and sighed deeply.  
"The Dwarves request our assistance. They are began overrun with Skaven from the clan Eshin."

"We have no troops left," Glarmis said sadly, lowering his head.

"Father allow me to go," Tirith said suddenly.

"You? No!" Glarmis roared, "I wasn't happy about you fighting with the Shadow Warriors let alone sending you off to the Dwarven Mines!"

"But…"

"I've lost your mother. You are all I have left and I must protect you." Glarmis concluded, settling himself once more in this throne.

"You can't just ignore their pleas for help!" Tirith cried.

"We've done all we can," Glarmis, said angrily, Forsyth tried to ignore them, preferring not to get involved in family arguments.

"I can't believe you sometimes. No wonder the Dwarves hate us!" Tirith shouted, pushing out of the throne room and slamming the doors behind him.

Hurrying down to the stables he grabbed his sword and shield, and pulled on his lightweight golden mail. Mounting Kestrel in a single jump, he squeezed her sides with his legs and soared off into the sky. But this time rather than circling the town, he burst through the clouds and hurried off eastwards towards the Dwarven Mines.

**I hope you liked it!  
Any Questions don't hesitate to ask  
PLEASE READ AND REVIEW  
It's really useful to see what people think about my stories ********  
**


	3. Chapter 3

Sweat glistened on the Orcs bare chests as they marched steadily through the vast forest of Athel Loren. Their choppas glinted in the sun and behind them row upon row of goblins pushed and shoved noisily, clutching blunt spears, sharpened sticks or anything else they had found. To their left and right hoards of wolf and spider riders charged in disorganised, snaking lines. Occasionally a goblin would steer round a tree badly and end up colliding head first with the bark.

Towards the front of the line, sat a huge, muscular Orc atop a ferocious boar, This Orc, known as Urk the Orc (Orc parents aren't the most original for naming) was the leader of this enormous band of Orcs and Goblins. Several days ago he had suddenly felt compelled to gather all his forces and attack the Wood Elves, elves whom he had never fought before and knew nothing about. He just had a strange feeling it was necessary.

Suddenly a scream shattered Urk's train of thought. Behind him a goblin fell with a soft thump to the floor, an elven arrow between his eyes. There was a moment of silence. Followed by a tumultuous roaring and clashing of metal upon as the green skins broke rank and charged through the trees.

They were met by hails of arrows, from all sides, decimating ranks and sniping out riders from their mounts. Figures dressed in camouflage flitted between the trees loosing arrows into the fray. Wardancers spun into the battle, weaving, jumping and flipping through a unit of orcs leaving a ribbon of crimson blood.

The pounding of hooves could be heard as a battalion of Glade riders charged straight through a unit of Night goblins and out the other side, little green bodies still impaled on their spears.

Urk could see the fight was going badly, "Bring in the Black orcs!" he yelled whilst slicing through one of the glade guard who wasn't quite quick enough. A enormous unit of Black Orcs clanked into the battle, crushing war dancers to pulp and grabbing glade riders who came past, ripping their heads from their bodies.

From between trees Urk noticed a figure in white rubbing her hands together and slowly stroking the trees. Each one seemed to quiver as she touched them, shaking their branches and almost stretching their wooden limbs.

A goblin dropped his spear in terror as the trees around him began to rake the battle ground with their long gnarled fingers. Scooping up goblins, orcs and spiders and tossing them into the air. Dryads stabbed forwards with their twisted limbs, going straight through the heads of their enemies.

The black orcs stood, confused for a moment, as the trees around them, which had previously just been scenery, began to smash their way through the Black Orc unit. "Night Goblins! Get rid of dem Trees!" Urk roared whilst his boar charged uncontrollably through a dryad, crushing it into kindling.

Meanwhile Naestra, the girl dressed in a white robe, her face covered by a white veil, her feet protected by perfect white ballet shoes, stepped out into the battle green and purple energy swirling around her. She unleashed a green jet of energy, frying a goblin in front of her. Whispering her apologies, tears starting to streak her face she blasted another goblin and then a third mounted on a wolf.

She turned to see one of her Treemen screech in pain as it ran through the battle aflame. Crushing friend and foe alike with its enormous feet before falling, dead, to the ground. The Night Goblins giggled and hooted, grabbing more flaming torches and heading towards a lone dryad.

Suddenly from beside her, Naestra heard a roar as a Black Orc charged at her, axes held high. She stood, petrified, unarmed, and too afraid to use her magic.

With a defiant yell a woman dressed in green shot from the trees and deftly sliced the orc's head from his body and his body from his legs, using two short daggers. Arahan laughed callously wiping the blood off her blade and turning to her frightened sister.

"Naestra!" She barked, "You must be more careful!"

"Forgive me Arahan," Naestra mumbled, "I was caught off guard."

"The Eternal Guard on our western flank." Arahan snarled, cutting down a night goblin who came too close for her liking.

"What?" Naestra asked, unable to understand Arahan over the cacophony of battle, cries of victory and shrieks of defeat, metal on metal and horses, wolves and spiders racing through the undergrowth.

"The Eternal Guard needs assistance!" Arahan hissed, annoyed that Naestra was taking so long and preventing her from carving through another orcs skull.

Naestra nodded and Arahan immediately sprinted back into the battle cutting down two orcs who tried to double team here. Raising her fingers to her lips Naestra whistled a single, piercing note. Then she stood silently watching the sky. A slight wind picked up and then it create larger and larger, coming in great booming gusts. Finally Naestra spotted what she wanted, slowly descending into the forest. An enormous, green, winged, ferocious beast: a forest dragon.

Both the green skins and the wood elves themselves stopped fighting for a moment as they gazed in wonder at the dragon. The dragon lowered its head and nuzzled into Naestra, not relenting until she gave it a stroke on the nose. Naestra smiled, happy to see her friend after so long.

She climbed skilfully onto the dragons back and itched his favourite spot causing him to twitch his leg in a dog like fashion, nonchalantly crushing a spider rider who was travelling just underneath. The dragon slowly began to flap his wings and they were lifted into the air, the wind coming off them throwing soldiers across the forest floor.

Rising into the sky, she could see the entire battle raging below her; Wardancers and orcs locked in deadly combat; Glade riders and wolf riders racing furiously alongside one another; Black orcs carving their way through lines of mysterious dryads; Glade Guard shooting spider riders from their mounts and then disappearing back between the trees; Night Goblins attacking Treemen and the smell of bonfire that was released from it.

Urk wiped his brow with the back of his hand and looked up into the sky at the magnificent dragon. "Oi shortie!" he yelled to a nearby goblin, "How come I don't get one of them flying buggers?"

Meanwhile in a desert, miles away from Athel Loren, Lutiana was marching unrelentingly forwards. A smile played across her lips. This world had no idea what she was about to unleash.

**I hope you liked the fight  
I was going to write a really long chapter  
But instead decided to write more shorter chapters  
So I can update faster and keep you all entertained… hopefully  
Please read and review!!!  
**


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